


Shadow of Greed

by SuggestiveScribe



Series: Everything You Fear to Lose [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Star Wars, Before the Rule of Two, In true Star Wars fashion, M/M, Prequel to Duel of the Fates, Tension, Violence, Yeah. A Prequel., Youngling/Padawan/Jedi Oikawa & Iwaizumi, still takes place in the Old Republic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuggestiveScribe/pseuds/SuggestiveScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You told me you were worried because you could sense my emotions from what felt like a planet away." </p><p>"I did," Iwaizumi repeated, staring at Oikawa's eyes and the way the moonlight curved around his cheekbone. "And I could." </p><p>Oikawa was still staring at him as he almost purred the words, "How about right now?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow of Greed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1000ft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000ft/gifts).



> Happy Birthday [Mars](http://yaboykeiji.tumblr.com/)! I am insanely grateful to be your friend/aibou/verbal sparring partner, and this fic was the absolute least I could do. I hope you enjoy it, and more importantly I hope you have a wonderful birthday! Also, before you have a chance to say it,
> 
>  _Fight me._
> 
> This is a prequel to [Duel of the Fates](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4796987)! Because I am weak! I think either can be read in either order. Special shoutout to [Becca](http://radio-silents.tumblr.com/), who exchanged headcanons and helped me stay sane while attempting to get this finished on time. Something something Star Wars Squad.

Hajime's eyes were open, but he still saw nothing but black. He curled his palms around the wooden sword in his hand, mind searching for his target. He pushed out the sounds of the other children, the mild clinks of play-swords against bobbing remotes, and closed his eyes. This darkness was different somehow, and it made Hajime feel more centered. Focused.

He took a step back, unsteady feet making him wobble, but he could definitely feel something. Or... he thought he could. The only way to figure it out was to strike. He pulled his sword back before giving a quick swing forward, and was rewarded by a smack of resistance when he hit his target. The remote made a noise, a satisfying recognition of a job well done, and then Hajime could feel it move, hovering to a different location to test him once more.

He felt himself grin, pleased with the chase. The Jedi Masters and instructors told them that the Force helped to guide their hands, and with it they didn't need to see. It would see for them, lighting up their senses, and if they embraced it then they would be able to perform exceptional feats in battle.

Hajime understood, or he understood the words at least, so he did his best to fall into step with those instructions even if the concept of 'the Force' was still a little shaky in his mind.

He rotated, instinct guiding him more than thought, but then he felt a waver, a ripple of something invisible and bubbling. It made his skin crawl, and he could feel his remote wobble unexpectedly in the air next to him. Hajime tipped the cover off of his face, opening up his vision to the room.

A meter or so away from him was a boy, sword gripped tight in his small hands like the force of his squeeze was what dictated his victory. The rounded silver hood they used to cover their vision was atop his head, and below its edge the boy was frowning deeply, maybe even wincing as if he was in pain.

He slashed angrily at his remote, but the ball bobbed away from his swing right before contact. The boy grit his teeth, arms shaking as they held his sword. His knees bent, hostility in his stance, but he was quaking like he was afraid. He swung again and missed, and Hajime felt the vibrations in the air again. All of the remotes in the room spun a little, disturbed by the same thing that moved under Hajime's skin.

The boy hissed breath past his clenched teeth and started chopping, his attacks obviously blind as he slashed at it, and every whiff past the tiny target seemed to make his swing go more rigid. Then he barked a noise, all frustration, and pulled one hand away from his sword to reach out and shove downward. His remote screeched as it was caught in an invisible grip and smashed to the ground, pieces breaking and scattering across the floor. Other remotes were flung around the air, and the shockwave knocked Hajime off his feet, butt hitting the ground along with a few other students.

The boy threw the silver hood off his face, eyes pinching closed as his hands moved up to wipe at them. The room was littered with sounds of upset children, huffs of irritation and a few whimpers. They threw sideways glances at the boy, either in anger or fear, but Hajime cocked his head, dusting off the seat of his pants as he got back to his feet.

The instructor was hastily jumping from his seated position, adjusting the eyeglasses he kept perched on his nose, but Hajime plodded across the room before him, halting just in front of the other boy. He had light brown hair falling across his forehead in wispy tufts, and redness spreading in his eyes from being rubbed too fiercely.

Hajime could feel the boy's unease in the air like it was a chill, but it wasn't anger. It felt a little afraid, and Hajime wondered why, but he didn't ask.

"What's your name?" he asked instead, watching the other boy's grip on his sword squeeze and flex against the handle.

The boy almost jumped, blinking up at Hajime with big, brown eyes. He peered at Hajime from under his fringe, hands going still and relaxed around his sword. "Oikawa," he answered, voice uncertain. He looked at Hajime for a moment longer, and somehow that seemed to relax him. "Tooru," he decided to add. He looked a little excited then, taking a small step forward so Hajime could see exactly how his ears perked up a little when he smiled real wide, "What's _your_ name?"

"Iwaizumi Hajime," Hajime answered easily, because that was the truth.

Oikawa took a small inhale, back straightening like he had to take a breath to process this piece of information. He looked down at his hands, fingers flexing again, "Iwai... Iwa--" his mouth worked around the word like it struggled up from his throat. He brought his gaze back up to Hajime's, lips splitting into a smile so large it pushed into his eyes, "Hajime!"

Hajime shifted his footing. Having been taught to guard that name more closely than the other, he wondered if it was okay for Oikawa to use it. But it sounded okay, sounded like it should when Oikawa said it, so Hajime figured it was fine, so long as it was coming from Oikawa's mouth.

Oikawa held his arms out stiff in front of him, shoving the sword right between them. "You're good at this," he said, blinking around the wooden blade to gaze at Hajime.

Hajime shuffled, hand moving to twist the small braid in his hair between his fingers, "No, I'm--"

Oikawa shook his head, lips pursing closed before opening to firmly repeat, "You're good at this."

Hajime blinked, face warm, and then he said, "You're really good at the other thing!"

Oikawa cocked his head, arms sagging slightly.

Hajime reached out with his arm, fluttering his fingers in the air. "That thing," he enunciated with a wave of his palm, certainly a perfect explanation.

Oikawa bit into the smile that attempted to move across his mouth. He dropped his sword down by his side, his free hand opening and closing in front of him. "I just feel it strong," he said. He looked across the small distance at Hajime with concerned eyes, "I can't control it."

Hajime rubbed his chin between his fingers, mouth twisting in thought before he turned his furrowed brow back up at Oikawa, "But isn't that what we're here for?"

Oikawa's entire body went still for a moment, as if hit with astounding insight, and then it was there again, the big ear-wiggling smile. He nodded once, fervently, "Mm!"

Hajime took a few steps away, then snatched his remote out of the air. He carried it over to Oikawa, holding the silver ball out with his hands, "We can take turns?"

Oikawa blinked, and he looked at Hajime like he had just handed him the universe.

 

 

 

"H-Hajime?"

Hajime turned his head away from his meal to glance toward the voice. Oikawa stood there, tray held firmly with both of his hands. Hajime stopped chewing, hand still as it hovered with food still stationed on his fork.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, head tipping to the seat across from Hajime.

Couldn't he sit wherever he wanted? "Yeah," Hajime answered, face still blank, mind still intrigued.

Oikawa smiled and shuffled around the table, setting down his tray and plopping down hard enough to rattle Hajime's drink.

Hajime watched him for a moment. He was bright eyed again, looking down at his food with barely contained wonder, but the skin below his eyes was dark. In between bites he yawned.

"Oikawa," Hajime began, allowing his fork to rest against his plate for a moment.

"Tooru," Oikawa said.

"Tooru?" Hajime repeated, thrown off kilter.

Oikawa blinked up at him. "You can call me Tooru," he explained. He returned his gaze to his plate, "Because we're friends." He was smiling too big for a person eating vegetables, especially ones that were watery and tasted like the color green, even though they were red.

"Tooru," Hajime restarted, watching him pull the vegetables into his mouth. It was a feat of courage. "It's only midday and you seem very tired."

Tooru paused, but didn't look at him. After a brief moment he resumed eating. "I don't sleep very well," he responded, his face unchanging. It looked like it was on purpose, the unchanging face.

Hajime pushed around his own vegetables before finally resting his fork beside them. He leaned on the table with one elbow, holding his face in his hand, "Do your roommates snore?"

Tooru laughed a little at that, "No." He spoke into his glass before taking a sip, "It's not them." There was a long silence, and then Tooru said, "I don't think they like rooming with me."

Hajime frowned, "Why?"

Tooru rubbed at one of his eyes and yawned again, keeping his gaze down, "When it's dark I see things."

Hajime lightly lifted his chin from his hand, "What kind of things?"

Tooru shook his head, "Images. Of people." He paused, brow furrowing as he finally brought his gaze to meet Hajime's, "I always feel like I know them, but I don't."

"That's weird," Hajime commented.

"It is!" Tooru said, eyes big. He glanced off to the side, "And they're always doing scary things." He shook his head, "I don't like it at all."

"Have you told Master Takeda or any of the others?" Hajime asked.

"Mm, no," Tooru answered. "I don't think they could help..."

"You never know," Hajime said, watching as Tooru's face grew more and more downtrodden.

Tooru shrugged, then wiped the grief from his face to look up at Hajime, "I'll be okay! I'm going to be a Jedi one day after all." He smiled, and while it looked forced at first, the longer it stayed the more they both seemed to believe it.

Hajime grinned back at him. Tooru seemed to feel things very hard and very easily, like they hit right against his heart, but he also seemed strong. Hajime liked that.

Tooru threw a quick glance down at his food, then scooped up a slice of his meat and transferred it to Hajime's plate. Hajime looked down at it, excited.

He blinked up at Tooru, who was smiling still, and it was definitely genuine this time. "Do you like these?" Hajime asked, pointing to his vegetables.

Tooru bounced his shoulders, "Yeah, they're okay."

Hajime quickly flopped them onto Tooru's plate, somehow relieved to get them out of his vision.

Tooru snickered, laughing like they had a secret, and then moved to work a piece onto his fork.

"Do you want to go to the courtyard after classes?" Hajime asked as he cut his meat. "Practice swordsmanship?"

Tooru visibly piped up in his seat, "Yes." Tooru's free hand clenched and unclenched beside his plate, and Hajime could feel the air hum with energy. "I'd like that a lot."

 

 

Hajime was stumbling out of his room, feet hitting heavily against the floor. He was barely conscious, fingers attempting to grind the sleep out of his eyes and force them into enough clarity to make it to the bathroom without running into a wall first.

He closed the door behind him softly, the chill of cold tile biting against his bare feet. As he traversed the hallway voices slowly began to hit his hearing, a few shouts and then soft murmurs, hiccupping breaths stifled by hands or cloth. Hajime approached the noises, turning his gaze in toward the open dorm room.

Things were sprayed everywhere, desks and sheets and textbooks whirled into the center of the room like they had spun into the eye of a hurricane, and the occupants were all wide-eyed and awake, chests heaving.

It took Hajime a moment to see Tooru, knees curled in against his chest and arms hugging his shins on the floor. Master Takeda was bent over, speaking to him in hushed tones, but his face was twisted a bit, like he was confused.

Tooru's eyes jumped over to Hajime, and the moment their gazes locked he snatched them away again, shifting on the floor to angle his face away from Hajime's view.

Hajime wasn't sure what to make of that, and he thought about it as he visited the restroom and made his way back toward his dorm. When he passed by Tooru's room this time Master Takeda was in the hallway, speaking to another Jedi that Hajime didn't quite recognize. He could also hear muttering within the room, snide comments about being afraid of the dark, and Hajime found himself frowning.

The way Hajime saw it, it wasn't the dark Tooru was afraid of in the first place. It was whatever his mind did with the dark that scared him, and whatever his mind did wasn't something anyone but Tooru could understand.

Just as Hajime was walking past Master Takeda he heard his instructor speaking lowly, "Ah well, I think Tooru is frightened of the dark. Perhaps we could get him--"

Hajime's frown grew deeper. He tugged on Master Takeda's sleeve, because instructors shouldn't make the same mistakes as children, "He's not afraid of the dark."

Takeda tilted his head, face surprised but ultimately receptive, as he usually was.

Hajime let go of his sleeve and explained, "He remembers bad things when it's dark."

Takeda's eyebrows moved into a furrow, lips pulling down. He spoke, "But Tooru was taken in by the Jedi Council when he was a baby, just like you were." He delicately shook his head, "He shouldn't have memories beyond the Temple."

Hajime shrugged, "Maybe they're not his."

It was a simple sentence, Hajime thought, but it moved Master Takeda's expression all over his face in ways that Hajime couldn't quite describe. He put his hand on Hajime's shoulder, lips moving into a smile that covered something else. Hajime had seen Tooru do that before. "Have you and Tooru gotten to know each other?" Master Takeda asked him, voice airy.

Hajime nodded, "We're friends."

This time when Takeda's smile cracked open it wasn't hiding anything, "Can I ask you something?"

 

The next morning there was a shuffle, and personal belongings were being moved in and out of Hajime's dorm. It didn't take long, as none of them had much, but at the end Tooru appeared, a small bag of laundry squeezed tight against his chest as he paused in the frame of Hajime's doorway.

Hajime smiled, hopping off his bed and crossing the small distance, "Master Takeda listened to me!"

Tooru tilted his head, bangs sliding over his eye.

Hajime yanked the bag away from Tooru, winning him a surprised blink of eyes as he tossed it carelessly behind him. "I told him your nightmares don't bother me," he lightly tapped his fist against Tooru's chest, leaving it there. "Because friends help each other with those things."

Tooru looked like he had just witnessed the end or beginning of the universe, eyes and mouth held still and open, stunned.

"But," Hajime said, and he turned his mouth down, because this part was serious, "you can't try and hide it." Tooru blinked at him and he went on, "If you're scared or need help you have to tell me."

Tooru's mouth sealed into a straight line, gaze fluttering off to the side.

"Tooru," Hajime repeated, lightly pressing his closed hand against Tooru's chest. Tooru brought his eyes back to Hajime, and Hajime stared at him, level, "Okay?"

Tooru's shoulders finally relaxed, and with them came the slow spread of a tentative smile and a pleased, "Okay." He tapped his fist against Hajime's chest and Hajime grinned. He felt like he had won something.

 

 

Hajime had prepared himself for Tooru's nightmares, but it was still shocking the first time it happened. Hajime never figured out which he felt first, the internal shift of something going wrong or the outward rattle of the room, but either way he woke up suddenly, eyes flying open.

The desks would shake, and the air would twist and warp in ways that couldn't be seen but were definitely _felt_ , and Tooru's breaths would come short and fast, like he was running out of them.

Hajime tumbled out of bed, feet hitting the floor unevenly. He made quick strides over to Tooru's bunk, lightly shaking his shoulder. Tooru looked at him, eyes wide and glassy like he was awake but still seeing spectres, and Hajime gripped his shoulder tightly, "Tooru." He stared down at him, willing their gazes to connect even though it looked like Tooru wanted to roll away, "Tooru, I'm here, you're okay, calm down."

Tooru's hand snapped upward, grabbing at Hajime's arm and squeezing until it was painful. It seemed to almost seize that way, like his limbs were possessed with power Tooru didn't understand.

Hajime didn't wince. He kept his face as neutral as possible, lifting his free hand and resting it gently atop the one Tooru had clamped around his bicep.

There was a tense moment, the desks and bed frames still shuddering as they stared at each other, and then they went still. Silent.

Tooru's hand slowly eased open, and the band of pain on Hajime's arm began to ebb into nothingness soon after. When Tooru blinked tears fell out.

He opened his mouth, "I'm s--"

"Are you okay?"

Tooru closed his mouth. The moon reflected in his eyes, but the outline was unsteady as they glossed over with tears. He nodded, lips twisting around as he tried to keep his ragged breaths in his mouth.

"Good," Hajime said, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. He turned around and made his way back toward his bed, straightening the sheets before sliding back under them.

Hajime laid on his back, arm pinned behind his head, and slowly allowed his eyelids to flutter closed. He thought he heard breaths, almost inaudible whimpers climbing into panic, and he was just turning his head to open his eyes when he felt his sheets get flung to the side and a warm body crawled in bed next to him.

Hajime jumped, blinking in surprise down at Tooru, but his eyes were squeezed closed, tears clinging to his eyelashes. Hajime felt himself sink back to neutral, shoulders unfurling against the mattress. Tooru was sniffling, hands clutched into fists in Hajime's shirt, legs curled up close to his body.

He could feel tremors of fear rumbling off of Tooru's shaking limbs, and when he pressed his cheek against Hajime's chest he could feel the warm drop of tears fall, too.

Hajime lowered his arm, lightly touching his hand to Tooru's shoulder. He had no idea what to say when someone was crying, but Tooru didn't seem inclined to speak or listen anyway, so he supposed silence was fine.

Hajime closed his eyes, and he noticed that Tooru was changing his breathing, slowly working to match pace so that his breaths mirrored Hajime's. Hajime made sure to take deep breaths, long ones that filled his lungs and trickled out in an easy rhythm. The longer they laid the less often Tooru sniffled, and soon he was quiet, breathing in the same cadence as Hajime, his ear pressed against Hajime's chest.

Perhaps Hajime was imagining it, or perhaps he was no good at reading these things, but he could have sworn that the hand he had tucked against Tooru's ribs could feel his heartbeat, and he could swear that it was in perfect sync with his own.

 

 

 

 

It was easy from there.

Hajime always had a sparring partner, and Tooru always had a meditation partner. Hajime hadn't spent much time on meditation before; he was much more inclined to practice his swordsmanship. The truth of the matter was Tooru _needed_ it. He needed it to sleep, to overcome the fear of closing his eyes, and to try and understand the power he had so much trouble controlling. It was difficult, and the first few times Hajime held his hands, reminding him that he was safe in the Temple, with him. That seemed to help, and Hajime was fine with it even though Tooru squeezed his hands much harder than he thought a small boy should be able to squeeze.

Falling asleep was often problematic, but Hajime worked to remedy that as well.

It was easy to see wonder in Tooru's eyes. He liked to hide when he was hurt, or when he was upset, but he did very little to guard against awe. Hajime didn't have to watch him for very long to figure it all out.

Tooru was trembling in his bed, shoulders quaking, so Hajime was careful when he touched him. Tooru turned, obviously upset that he couldn't keep his shaking breaths quiet, but Hajime just tugged at his arm.

"Come with me."

Hajime peered out the crack of their door into the hallway. The grand columns and shining tiled floors reflected nothing but moonlight and the shadows created by it. He grabbed Tooru's hand, keeping him in tow behind him as he slipped into the quiet of the corridor.

Their feet were the only noises, soft pattering down steps and over stone.

" _Hajime_ ," Oikawa whispered, eyes big but not in the least bit afraid. " _Where are we going?_ "

" _Shh_ ," Hajime commanded softly. " _You'll see_."

Tooru pinched his lips closed but they had still curled upward, his sense of adventure showing plain on his face.

Hajime lead them through back rooms, places where they went to do laundry or help with dishes, and then up a small staircase nestled against the exterior wall of the Temple.

When Hajime pushed through the outer door it opened up into wide open night and a small patch of green grass. Tooru was staring up at the stars, eyes and mouth open in breathless appreciation. Hajime closed the door quietly behind them, feet shuffling against the low cut grass. It was the roof of a balcony, an artificial slice of something natural. There was a small bench overlooking the city, and Hajime imagined some of the Masters probably used this area for a moment of quiet, maybe even meditation.

But at night it was theirs, tucked away where few eyes could see and even fewer would notice.

Tooru was still looking at the sky, chin tilted up even as he fell back into the grass, palms sinking into the green. Hajime settled beside him, crossing his legs and laying his hands in his lap. None of the moons were fully bright; only slivers and edges lit the sky, but the stars spread out above them as brilliant and innumerable as flecks of light sparkling over an ocean.

Tooru reached out, fingers lightly tracing at the curve of a moon.

Hajime shifted, hugging his knees to his chest, "It's pretty isn't it?"

Tooru's hand lowered slowly, his eyes still fixed on everything the sky had to offer.

Hajime felt a strange sense of nervousness, so he kept his eyes forward and up, gaze sliding through bands of stars and connecting them into pictures and constellations.

"It's like two skies."

Hajime turned at Tooru's words, forehead crinkling in thought.

Tooru swept his hand over the city, the golden lights of buildings and vehicles collecting the shadows into forms-- skyscrapers, towers, stadiums and apartments. They grew ever higher, the golden flecks always reaching for the silver light of the stars but never quite touching.

"It is," and Hajime knew his words were dumb but he didn't have any other good ones.

Tooru didn't seem to react anyway. He watched the speeders race by, zipping around far below their feet, and then sent his eyes upward to gaze at the twinkling of a space station.

"It's big," Hajime said, taking in all the open space around them . "Wide and open."

Tooru finally turned his attention toward Hajime, and when he blinked the light of both skies were reflected in his eyes.

"When you close your eyes, maybe you should try and think about this, instead."

Tooru watched him silently for a moment, then turned his head back toward the sky. He closed his eyes, features calm and lax. Hajime watched him, the cool blue of the night settling over his cheeks, and he seemed... peaceful.

When he opened them again, he blinked at the sky a few more times before speaking, "I like the stars." His fingers lightly curled against the grass, "I want to see them all the time."

Hajime let his legs spread out in front of them, arms leaning back to support him, "I like them too." He glanced over at Tooru, "We can come here whenever you need to."

When Tooru turned to smile at him it was with unbridled excitement. Hajime got the sense that perhaps that offer would be abused in the future, but he had an even deeper sense that he didn't mind at all.

 

When they traveled as initiates it was side by side. Together they stepped foot onto their first ship, and together they traveled with their peers to distant planets. Tooru was there the first time they lifted off the ground and Hajime felt sick, pressing his forehead against the wall of the ship and refusing to look out the window. Hajime was there the first time they flew through deep space, Tooru's fingers splayed across the glass as he whispered, " _I want to see it all_."

Together they collected their lightsaber crystals, assembled the hilts next to one another and brought their blades purring to life in the same moment. They experienced failure and victory, physical trials and emotional ones. They worked through the loss of a comrade and a Master, held each other tight at night through clenched fists and fast-falling tears. When the fear and anger grew too overwhelming they grit their teeth through it together. There wasn't always one of them to be strong, but they were never alone, and that in itself was enough. It wasn't necessarily about standing stoic in the midst of a storm, but surviving it.

When they went through the trials to earn their place beside a Master as a Padawan, they did it with the full support of the other. They were each other's fortitude and foundation, and knowing that enabled them to move forward. Stronger.  

 

 

 

"Tooru--"

Tooru's legs were carrying him in long strides next to Master Takeda, gaze tipped slightly downward.

"--we've been over this," Takeda went on.

Hajime was keeping his eyes forward, lips pursed into a straight line. Tooru's attempts were all in vain, and Hajime was very well aware of it.

"Just let me go with him," Tooru said, pressing his hand to his chest. "I can--"

Master Takeda shook his head, "Listen, I understand you and Hajime have forged a..." Takeda's eyes slipped off to the side as they walked, considering. "A very strong bond," he eventually finished. Then he tilted his head up at the boys, face placid but firm, "But you've both turned thirteen recently; you've both been chosen for Padawan training." Tooru's face was crinkling even before Master Takeda finished his sentence, "You two are going to have a lot of time and space away from one another."

Tooru pointed vaguely outside the Temple, eyes focused hard on Master Takeda's face, "Hajime's new master is taking him into a _war zone_." Tooru was shaking his head, "It's dangerous. I should _be_ there."

Master Takeda chuckled, a noise that was a little amused and a little flippant. "It's going to be both of your first off-world assignments," he explained. "Your Masters wouldn't do anything to endanger you."

Tooru's fist clenched at his side, his jaw clamping down hard on words he knew he shouldn't say.

"This... is probably for the best," Takeda went on. He looked up at Tooru, because Tooru's height now required such a thing, "We all know the dangers of attachment."

Hajime could feel the pulse of Tooru's heart like it was the string of an instrument being plucked in the air, the hard jump and twang of emotion rattling out into humming vibrations that made Hajime's hair prickle off his skin.

Hajime lightly touched at Tooru's wrist, "Hey, come o--"

Tooru snatched away his hand, eyes still focused on Takeda, "This isn't about attachment, this is about safet--"

"Tooru," and Takeda's feet came to a halt as he stared up at his pupil. "Don't presume to know more than your Masters." Tooru's face pinched inward, chest filling with air as his back went rigid. Takeda's eyes flickered over to Hajime, then back to Tooru again, "The distance will do you two well. Now," and his smile was bright and white as he clapped his hands together, "don't you both have packing to do?"

 

When they got back to their room Tooru slammed the door behind him, feet still carrying him too fast. He paced back and forth as Hajime pulled his bag from his dresser and laid it out on his bed.

"I can't believe he just disregarded what I had to say so easily."

Hajime kept quiet, thinking over what he would need to bring with him other than robes. Not much, really.

"No one has the same sort of bond we have," Tooru was explaining hurriedly, hands fluttering around the air as he spoke. "I am best suited to sense the Force shifting around you; _you're_ the best one to sense it shifting around me."

Hajime folded the cloth of his robes neatly, sliding the square of fabric into his bag. He tried to ignore the hiccup of energy in his chest, jumping and fluttering as if his heart was attempting to leap into his throat.

"By the time others are able to sense danger, it may be too late!"

Hajime sighed, shaking his head as he shoved his belt into his bag as well, "Tooru, you're exaggerating." Cloth and leather shuffled together as he shoved his cloak in with the rest, "The bond between Master and Padawan is strong enough to sense shifts like this."

Tooru's feet went inexplicably quiet, stopping mid-pace behind Hajime. Hajime's hands went still. He felt the air in the room go strangely warm. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder and Tooru was staring at him, features entirely aghast. Hajime was silent as he looked back at him.

Tooru's mouth finally moved, slowly, "What?"

"Are you going to tell me it's not true?" Hajime asked, blinking at him.

"Yes," Tooru answered immediately. "I will tell you that."

Hajime sighed as he turned around to face Tooru, "Listen, we both have to realize on some level that they're right." The shock on Tooru's face seemed to sink below his skin, lines etching deeper and moving his expression into something appalled. "Our bond," Hajime said, touching his hand to his chest, "is very strong." He swallowed and tipped his head to the side, treading lightly, "But we both know the mantra." Hajime ignored the glassy look in Tooru's eyes as he continued, "Attachment does not lead to anything good. We've known our whole lives."

"Don't," Tooru said, the words coming through the clench of his jaw.

Hajime took a few steps closer to him, looking straight into Tooru's face, "We have to keep our teachings in mind at all times if we're to properly walk the path of the Jedi."

Tooru's eyes widened, eyelashes spreading further apart as if making room for the wavering tears teetering on the edge of his eyelids. "What do you mean?" he asked, voice low and growling.

Hajime leveled his eyes with his voice, "I mean we..." he found himself trailing off; he could _see_ the anger clouding Tooru's vision, but he finished the sentence anyway, "I mean we need to listen to them."

Tooru's shoulders were sinking, his entire face falling as he looked at Hajime, "You... don't want to be friends... anymore?"

Hajime jerked forward, " _What?_ "

"Attachment," Tooru repeated, blinking into Hajime's face.

Hajime was shaking his head, "N-No, this isn't--"

"It _is_ ," Tooru interrupted fervently. He smacked against his own chest with his hand, "What is friendship if not attachment?"

Hajime felt his mind spinning, "That's not what I--" The conflict in his mind tore at his thoughts and made his words stutter out into nothing.

"So you just take their side," Tooru barked, motioning toward the door. "You just automatically fall into line with what they say!"

"They're our _Masters_ ," Hajime was saying before he was thinking.

Hajime felt the pain sting in his chest like it was his own as Tooru shouted, "I'm your _friend!_ "

Hajime's face snapped into irritation, eyes narrowing, "Enough! There's nothing we can do about it so _enough_ , Oikawa."

The room fell entirely silent. Hajime felt the energy in the air mount in accordance with the sneer pulling up at Tooru's upper lip.

That was bad. That was a bad slip at a bad time, and Hajime could feel the regret blossoming out of his heart like a sort of poisonous flower. He immediately opened his mouth, hand moving to touch at Tooru's arm, "I didn't m--"

Tooru jerked his arm away, two angry tears blinking out of his eyes and rolling fast down his cheeks as he stared Hajime.

"Tooru," he breathed. Corrected.

Tooru shook his head, fist hitting against Hajime's chest as another tear slipped away from his eyes without changing the rest of his expression in the least, "You told me..."

Hajime swallowed, hands lifting to touch Tooru's arm but uncertain of how he'd react.

"You would _always_ \--" Tooru lifted his fist and smacked against Hajime's chest again. " _Be_ here--" his shoulders shook.

This time when he lifted his hand Hajime grabbed it, dipping down to look into the downcast view of Tooru's face, "I'll always be here." Tooru stared at him, anger still making his eyes tremble in their sockets. Hajime squeezed tightly against his hand, " _Always_."

Hajime watched the heat drain out of Tooru's face. It left dark circles and sadness under his eyes, pallid skin and lips bitten pink. "You'll always choose the council," Tooru whispered, voice an echo of what it normally is.

_I have to._

"It's not about you or them," Hajime responded. When Tooru's face dipped back down Hajime sank lower to catch his gaze. "It's about doing what's right." He lifted his hand, brushing his palm against Tooru's cheek and swiping away some of his tears. He let it hover there, fingertips resting in Tooru's hair, "But we can do what's right _together_."  

Tooru closed his eyes, body still sagging like all of his energy was gone, and when he sighed he fell into Hajime's body, pressing his damp face against his shoulder. Hajime lightly placed his other hand between Tooru's shoulder blades, holding him still until the tremors worked themselves out of his body.

 

 

 

*   *   *

 

 

 

There was chaos in order, and order in chaos. When Takeda watched Tooru and Hajime fight, he felt like he was watching the outward explosion of two galaxies spinning in exact accordance and perfect harmony around one another.

"Stay back!"

Words were difficult to decipher as orders were shouted across the battlefield. Takeda grit his teeth, eyes flickering from side to side as he held out his arm, lightsaber nestled into the curl of his fingers.

"Stay behind me," he directed in a voice he hoped wasn't harsh even though he was forced to shout. His other hand was extended out, palm open and pouring energy in front of him to create a shield that was passable, if not perfect. He glanced over his shoulder at the younglings huddled behind him, eyes wide and hands shaking. Takeda smiled even as sweat trickled down his face, "If you stay here and stay calm, we'll all be fine."

He turned his attention back toward the battle in front of him.

Green and red and blue flashed endlessly and incessantly, drawing focus in a hundred different directions. What had started as a simple off-world visit for a group of initiates had turned into a full on raid, and now a peaceful planet was being torn apart by Imperial Troops. Luckily there had been help nearby.

Hajime and Tooru fought almost back to back. They stepped around and outside each other as if it was a dance that had been choreographed in advance, deflected blaster bolts and whirled to face opposite directions as if there was a tether moving their feet in perfect step next to the other.

Takeda watched them with large eyes and a racing heart. Tooru dipped low as Hajime swung above him, and the moment Hajime's shoulders snapped back Tooru was rising again, a single heart beat of movement that could have been fatal if not in perfect coordination.

Takeda felt like he was watching two people run along a tightrope-- flip, jump, cartwheel and _fight_ along a tightrope-- and it hit a rhythm that felt dangerous except it was _perfect_. Every step was a stutter of Takeda's heart, a moment to fail and fall out of line, but every time they continued forward without faltering.

It's as if they refused to contemplate the idea of failure, and suddenly only success was possible. Tooru deflected a blaster bolt behind him, Hajime did a full swing and knocked it toward a mercenary on the other side of the battlefield, striking him in the chest.

It was perfect trust.

A shielded droid trudged forward, canons directed toward Takeda. Takeda steeled himself, inhaling deeply and unsheathing the green blade of his lightsaber in his free hand. That was when Hajime sprung forward, feet sailing over the ground without a single touch of toes to soil. He spun through the shield, feet halting suddenly at the base of the droid, and then shot upward in a twirling motion that made his lightsaber spiral through the metal. It sliced apart without resistance, burning steel going cold and black almost immediately after being abandoned by the touch of the blade.

Almost ten years ago Tooru had confronted Takeda with tears in his eyes about being separated from his best friend.

Hajime shoved his arms outward, scattering the disassembled pieces of the droid so he could see, glowing blue blade spinning under the deft press of fingers.

A lot had changed since then.

Hajime rotated quick on his heel, eyes wide. His body hadn't even stopped moving before he was shouting, throwing his lightsaber out of his grip, "OIKAWA!"

Tooru, who was just barely managing to fight off the swarm of Imperial soldiers and droids crowing around him, threw a quick glance over his shoulder, hand flying up to snatch Hajime's saber out of the air. He kicked, shoving his foot against a soldier's chest before whirling into a complete spin, sabers twirling in his fingers as they cut down a droid and another soldier. He halted in a crouch, blades extended in either direction in front of and behind him, and then he lunged forward, jumping before bringing down both sabers in a spinning slice through the Imperial soldier.

He straightened without pause, batting away blaster bolts as he flung Hajime's saber back through the air. Hajime jumped to catch it, re-extending the blade on his fall so he could bring it down in a straight singular strike through an enemy's chest.

A lot had also stayed the same.

Tooru cut enemies down in a flurry; traversing the battlefield so deftly it was sometimes difficult to track even for another Jedi. His form would move from something fluid, slipping around enemies like air or water, to something wild and terrifying. It was scary in that it was succinct; he sprang from enemy to enemy in vicious cracks of contact like lightning.

Hajime's two studied forms were apparent in his every movement, and it made him fight as if possessed by two spirits who worked in exact opposition to one another. Solid and steady blocks kept his feet anchored to the ground, immoveable and impassable. He used defense to overcome offense, and it was perfect for guarding Tooru's feral movements. But then he would explode into a rush-- leaping acrobatics and spins that seemed determined to overpower the opponent with sheer strength.

They were both being overrun, enemies mowing through the Republic troops and centering their focus on the few Jedi who had shown up to the fight. Hajime was attempting to edge forward, blaster fire from multiple bounty hunters stealing his attention, when another shielded droid rolled up behind him, legs close enough to nip at Hajime's heels.

Hajime's eyes widened, and he spun and leapt upward, saber drawn above his head for a downward strike. The droid didn't allow for that; it raised one of its steel arms and smacked him to the ground, cannoned arm cracking against his skull so hard and fast that his descent into the dirt was almost too fast to see.

Tooru cranked around immediately, opponent in front of him forgotten the moment Hajime's body made contact with the dirt. He shouted, and it sounded like "Hajime" but most of it was lost to the desperate lunge that sent Tooru slicing through the air and over to his downed comrade.

He came to an immediate stop between Hajime and the droid, shoulders caged around him, and did his best to deflect the onslaught of blaster fire pouring from enemy rifles.

Then the canons on the droids arms began to purr to life, glowing with energy, and Tooru was allowed a single blink of realization before the blaster turrets began firing rounds into his back at close range.

Tooru shouted, lightsaber flinging behind his back to attempt and deflect all the fire, but shots flew through the deflections and Tooru's face twisted in pain. That's when Hajime's fingers twitched in the dirt, he wasn't on his feet before he was in the air, flipping at the height of his jump to bring his saber down through the top of the droid.

Tooru lurched as the fire ceased at his back, and the moment Hajime's feet hit the ground he spun on his heel and drove back upward again, arms crashing through and splitting the metal of the droid. Twisted parts and sparking wires coiled around his arms as he punched upward, and when he reached the top, broken shards still spraying out around him, he shouted and thrust a wave of energy outward.

Droid parts and components exploded outward in a shockwave, flying into enemy soldiers and knocking them to the ground. When Hajime's feet were back on the ground he and Tooru shot forward in unison before splitting, flanking the enemies with their sabers drawn. The troops had narrowed and clustered in an effort to corner the Jedi and avoid friendly droid fire, and that made it all too easy for Tooru and Hajime to cut through two groups of them in two swift attacks.

Mercenaries staggered and fell, but some still remained. When Hajime and Tooru met back in the middle they came to a sliding stop, dust kicking up around their feet. Then they both leapt upward-- same height, same speed, same _form_ \-- and crashed down to the ground, rupturing the ground beneath their feet and sending a massive blast wave out from their point of contact.

The Force that snapped across the battlefield incapacitated every remaining soldier and blew apart a few droids. Dirt and debris rippled out far and wide, puffing out in a last desperate huff at the end of its reach. Takeda's shield wavered under the press of the attack, even at a distance.

Takeda heaved a huge sigh, hand fluttering down to his side and lightsaber blade shrinking back into its hilt. The two Jedi finished off what remained of the threat, quick and methodical, and Takeda turned back to his students.

The younglings were all staring out at the display with eyes that looked inclined to pop from their sockets.

"See," Takeda said with a bright smile that overpowered the dust that clung to the sweat on his face, "I told you that we'd be okay."

The children remained stunned and wordless.

"It's a short trip back to Coruscant," Takeda was saying as he took a step back, herding the kids together and coaxing the really fearful ones to their feet. "Let's all get back on the ship and return home."

When he glanced back out at the field, littered with bodies and debris, Tooru and Hajime were walking side by side back to their shuttles. Tooru bumped against Hajime's shoulder, mouth going without sign of stopping. Hajime cast him an irritated glance before his face eventually broke into a smile, and he knocked back against Tooru's shoulder to jostle him as well.

A lot had stayed the same.

 

Takeda took care of getting the younglings back to their rooms and settled down once they arrived at the Temple. For a while everyone moved in a flurry; there were wounded who needed attention and information to be shared. Everyone wanted to know how and why the raid happened when it did, but Takeda thought nothing of that fact. The Empire had always made heavy use of spies and information trade, and no singular testament from a mercenary or soldier would change that.

Takeda observed the motions of the Temple, standing in the main hall so he could watch who came and went.

"Are you alright?" Tooru asked, reaching up to touch at the blood running down from Hajime's eyebrow and over his cheek. Takeda tipped his head to the side as the pair entered his vision, their forms stationed toward the entrance of the Temple.

Hajime slapped his hand away, "That's nothing you idiot, what about you? Your shoulder?"

Tooru's laugh was a breathy chuckle as he ruffled the back of his hair with his hand. The motion made him wince, "Ah, that? Yeah I'm fine--"

"You need to get to a Bacta Tank imme--"

Tooru dropped his arm as if exhausted by Hajime's words, "Everyone else who fought needs it way more than I do."

"That's--"

Irihata came to a stop beside Takeda, arms clasped behind his back. He stared at the two, face blank.

"They really saved us out there," Takeda said without taking his eyes away from them.  

"Mm," Irihata hummed in response, his gaze still pointed forward.  

Takeda blinked through the dirtied lens of his eyeglasses, a smile unthinkingly curling his lips upward, "They fight really well together, don't they?" There was a silence, and when Takeda tilted his gaze up at Irihata his eyes were anchored to the two, unmoving. Then he strode forward, walking toward the pair.

"Oikawa, can you come with me for a moment?"

Hajime gave a small bow as they both turned away from him and made their way toward the upper levels of the Temple. Takeda watched their movements without much thought, Irihata's robes sliding along the marbled tile as Tooru chattered lightly beside him. It was when Takeda turned his eyes back toward Hajime that he second guessed the interaction, because the gaze Hajime had leveled at their backs was furrowed and focused.

 

The light of the moons shone past the heavy columns of the Temple and into the corridor, reflecting off the polished floor and tinting everything silver and blue.

Iwaizumi traversed the halls at a brisk pace despite the quiet that had settled around him, feet carrying him quick and silent through the night. The lack of movement didn't surprise him; after the battle this morning everyone was exhausted. The raid happening on a planet so near Coruscant had sent even the defense force into a frenzy.

There was the sound of a squeak, the sticky movement of bare feet against tile.

Iwaizumi saw the light pouring into the hallway even before he heard the purr of the lightsaber, fluctuating notes humming as it spun and sliced through the air.

Iwaizumi came to a stop in front of the open doors, the golden light that spilled into the hallway framing his position as the doorway framed Oikawa's.

He was sweating, a thin mist of it falling over his bare arms and shoulders. If he saw or sensed Iwaizumi he didn't show it; he kept his eyes forward and his arms raised, lightsaber angled downward and following the lead of his left leg.

Iwaizumi could see his chest heaving lightly, and when he moved his feet into a few quick turns he could also make out the blisters and callouses worn into his feet.

He couldn't help but watch the movements; aggressive and furious as they were, there was a certain grace that Oikawa brought to them. Almost all of the attacks were unguarded, so strong and certain in their ability to land that a defense wasn't even considered.

It was the Seventh Form. Iwaizumi tilted his head as Oikawa paused, sweat sliding down his jaw and off his chin, hitting the floor. He braced his legs again, readying himself.

As he moved into quick spins and desperate lunges, Iwaizumi knew he should stop him. Rather, he should have stopped him a long time ago. It was powerful, but even more than that it was dangerous, and that was the very reason Oikawa practiced it in secret and not in front of their Masters.

Oikawa did a full spin, feet kicking out in a carousel before abruptly halting and spinning in the opposite direction to slice his blade through the air.  

Iwaizumi could never quite drag him away from it. Not when it seemed to radiate out from Oikawa's very bones, his very core, like the steps made sense for no reason other than Oikawa was the one using them.

Oikawa came to a sudden stop as he thrust his saber forward, arm flawlessly straight.

It looked natural.

"Oi."

Oikawa's head turned to him, eyebrows popping up in surprise even though his body remained steady.

Iwaizumi tilted his head down the hall, "Why don't we go to the lake level? Everyone's asleep." He narrowed his eyes on Oikawa's face, lips pulling down low, "and it will be good to get you off those blistered feet."

Oikawa lurched back into a proper standing position, the blade of his saber hissing back into its hilt as he chuckled and lifted his mouth into an almost-apologetic smile.

Iwaizumi's face didn't change, he simply turned to start walking back down the empty corridor. Oikawa followed behind him, bare feet slapping against the floors as his legs carried him quick and easy up to Iwaizumi's side.

"You should be resting, not training," Iwaizumi said into the open space of the hallway, not bothering to spare a glance down at the sores he knew Oikawa was hiding on his palms.

"It's fine; I'm fine."

Iwaizumi shook his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, "You never know when to quit."

"I wouldn't have been able to sleep anyway, Hajime."

Iwaizumi sighed, accepting the loss he knew was coming for him, and lead them toward the lake level of the Temple.

The lights on the lake level imitated the rise and fall of the sun of Coruscant, so when they stepped into the open space it was illuminated with the soft glow of moons and stars.

"It's somehow more believable at night," Oikawa said, feet moving over the grass and into the sand edged around the water.

"Illusions are easier in shadows," Iwaizumi responded, shedding his shirt before glancing up toward the ceiling. In the guise of nighttime the catwalks and rafters were nearly invisible, not to mention the silence that came along with a lack of company. He turned, "Hey Oikawa did you bring any--"

His voice was interrupted by the sound of Oikawa diving into the water, resurfacing with a broad smile and a shake of water from his hair.

Iwaizumi gave him a flat stare, "Do you still have your training garb on?"

Oikawa moved into a backstroke, and when his legs kicked above the water Iwaizumi could make out the saturated cloth of his pants and bedraggled state of his shin wraps.

Iwaizumi intended on chastising him but Oikawa was already humming as he drifted through the water, long arms slicing through the calm surface and carrying him toward the center in easy strokes. That left him sighing instead, but Iwaizumi used it as a way to feel better about stepping into the water with the cloth of his weathered trousers still draped over his legs.

The water was warm, and as it slid up to envelope the whole of his lower body and past his waist Iwaizumi could feel the fatigue and soreness slowly begin to ebb from his limbs. Oikawa had ceased in his movements and was instead floating on the surface, just his chest and face breaking above the water. His eyes were closed, mouth barely parted.

Iwaizumi took a few long strokes toward the center, allowing the waves to break over his shoulders and grant him a feeling of weightlessness. He turned onto his back and drifted next to Oikawa, staring up at the false set of stars laid out for them. He was barely aware of the sound of waves lapping at the spread of sand, spattering over rocks and lightly slapping against their skin.

Iwaizumi tipped his head toward Oikawa. His eyes were still closed, face still peaceful. After all this time Iwaizumi still felt a true sense of happiness and accomplishment when he saw Oikawa calm with his eyes closed.

Iwaizumi closed his own eyes, and for an immeasurable moment they floated next to one another. Every now and then their arms brushed, shoulders bumped, but neither bothered to move.

Iwaizumi opened his eyes slowly. The darkness parted into shadows and water and stars.

"Oikawa."

"Hm?"

Iwaizumi didn't have to turn his head to know Oikawa's eyes were still closed. He did anyway, because he wanted to watch his face, "What did Master Irihata want to speak to you about?"

Oikawa's features were still for a moment, and when his eyes opened it was just long enough to blink, closing them again, "The same thing Irihata always wants to talk about when he sees us fight together."

Iwaizumi was silent. He had figured as much.

He knew Oikawa turned his head to look at him because of the projection of his voice, "Are you worried?"

Iwaizumi stared blankly at the fake sky, "Frustrated."

"Aren't we all."

Iwaizumi snapped his gaze toward his friend, "I'm frustrated with _you_ , Oikawa."

Oikawa clicked his tongue, eyes rolling below the surface of his eyelids, "Well that's nothing new."

"You could have died saving me today," Iwaizumi said firmly, eyes sending a pointed stare over the glassy reflection of the water.

"I would have been fine with that," Oikawa answered without hesitation.

Iwaizumi felt the anger welling up in his chest, creasing his brow and making his blood run hot in his veins. He glared heatedly at Oikawa before firmly yanking his gaze away from him, pinching his lips together and snapping his eyes shut. He concentrated on the cooling power of his breath in his lungs and exhaled the poisonous heat into the air. After a few deep breaths he felt better, and he centered himself around the feeling of balance instead of thinking about the drivel that had just left Oikawa's mouth.

"You know what's interesting," Oikawa's voice sounded far off, but Iwaizumi could feel his stare on the side of his face.

"What," Iwaizumi spat, eyes remaining shut and voice refusing to lilt into a proper question.

"I feel like you spend more time angry than all of us, but you control it better than all of us too."

Iwaizumi's eyes slid open and he dropped his gaze back on Oikawa's face. Oikawa's eyes were big, unreadable as he looked at Iwaizumi like he was printing his expression into the back of his eyes.

"I don't spend much time angry at all," Iwaizumi told him. Oikawa's face didn't change save for a very small shift behind the darkened color of his irises. Iwaizumi sighed and felt his body bob in the water, buoyancy affected by the quick exhalation of breath, "When I start to feel angry I expel it. As we should."

"Right," Oikawa echoed, the water making small tinkling noises around them. "Like a good Jedi should."

There was something strange in those words, and as Iwaizumi turned to look at Oikawa he heard something. It was strange, like the lead of an echo in his own mind, his own thought, but he somehow had heard the whisper with his ears, and it was Oikawa's voice, " _Is it wrong to be willing to die for your friends?_ "

By the time Iwaizumi's gaze was settled on Oikawa, Oikawa was smiling, grinning above the water as he turned, and Iwaizumi wasn't convinced that he had truly heard the words at all.

"Hey Hajime," Oikawa's smile was in his voice, excited like the flashing in his eyes. "Want to go look at the real stars?"

Iwaizumi thought he probably nodded, face frozen in something, and he watched Oikawa's Padawan braid shiver in the water as he slid into a backstroke, the ends of the strands tickling at his chest.

Oikawa breached the water before him, surface breaking around his shoulders and sliding down his back. He stood on the sandy embankment, lightly shaking the water from his hair. Iwaizumi swam over to him, watching the moon pour even light onto the strong build of his shoulders. It became cragged and torn on his left shoulder, the skin healing rough and uneven where he had been blasted with the droid's rifle fire.

Iwaizumi had made him seek immediate attention for the wound, but it still hadn't been quickly enough.

 Oikawa turned around, glancing down at him. Water slipped down his neck and pooled in the dip of his collarbone, eventually spilling over to run down his chest. Iwaizumi's eyes chased the droplets, followed them over Oikawa's abs until they disappeared into the saturated fabric of his training gear. Oikawa's hand appeared in front of Iwaizumi's face, an offering.

Iwaizumi took it, pulling and being pulled from the artificial lake with one smooth motion. Oikawa didn't stop yanking until Iwaizumi was firmly on both feet, and by that time Iwaizumi was a whisper's distance from Oikawa. Iwaizumi normally would have backed off but something kept him there, and it wasn't the hand they each had wrapped around the other's forearm.

Oikawa was staring at him, eyes lightly hooded and gaze catching Iwaizumi from under the deepened shadow of his lashes. His mouth was curled upward slightly, hovering just on the edge of something bolder.

Iwaizumi could feel the heat radiating off of them, skin still damp from the waters of the lake. It was like a fog, a haze that wafted off their skin, and it clouded Iwaizumi's lungs and made his heart beat louder and faster than it had any right to.

"Hajime."

Iwaizumi blinked, eyes fluttering up to Oikawa's gaze. He couldn't remember where he had placed them, whether they had been drawing up the lithe line of his neck or ghosting over the cut of his jaw, but they caught on the gentle part of Oikawa's lips before reaching his eyes, and Iwaizumi truly hoped Oikawa didn't notice that, even though he was certain he did.

Iwaizumi was still attempting to swallow around the dryness in his throat when Oikawa spoke again, voice low and breathy, "A long time ago, you told me you were worried about me." Oikawa tilted his chin down, staring steady and even at Iwaizumi.

 _What is he getting at?_ Oikawa's skin was soft beneath the touch of Iwaizumi's hand.

Oikawa watched his eyes, focused on them like he could dive into Iwaizumi's thoughts through his irises, "You told me you were worried because you could sense my emotions from what felt like a planet away." A small breath left Iwaizumi's throat, a tremble working through his fingers. Oikawa somehow took a step forward, was somehow closer now. " _Turbulent_ ," he whispered, voice growing softer as he breathed the words over Iwaizumi's cheek. "You called them ' _turbulent_ '."

"I did," Iwaizumi repeated, staring at Oikawa's eyes and the way the moonlight curved around his cheekbone. "And I could." Iwaizumi swallowed, electricity snapping across his skin and turning his heartbeat arrhythmic. "Sense your emotions." _Like they were my own_.

Oikawa was still staring at him as he almost purred the words, "How about right now?"

Iwaizumi felt the heat crawling through his veins and over his flesh, lighting his pulse into a flutter that burned and flickered like candlelight. His breaths were shallow, and the slight hold he still had on Oikawa's forearm shook. Oikawa's lips parted around silence.

Iwaizumi felt like a bridge with its support beams knocked out from under it, and now an incredible weight was pressing against his weakest point, bearing down on him in an unstoppable way, and Iwaizumi could feel himself bowing, splintering, inclined to buckle.

He looked at Oikawa. He wondered if he wouldn't mind collapsing.

Oikawa's other hand was moving, fingertips just barely touching at Iwaizumi's hip.

How many times had Iwaizumi ignored it. How many times had he looked away from the electric crackle of Oikawa's touch or the too-long linger of his gaze. How many times had he forced his own eyes away, or felt a reflexive sigh leave his chest just from having Oikawa next to him, needing him.

His hand twitched. He wanted to slide his fingers over Oikawa's skin, over his waist and up the dip of his spine. He shuddered just thinking about it, and he watched Oikawa's eyes goes hazy, head dipping in the slightest, gaze unfocused.

He felt tendrils of energy wrap around him, around them, coiling tight. The hand that should be on Oikawa's back was still clenched at Iwaizumi's side, and he felt his breath falter.

_It'd be so easy._

Oikawa's lips were hovering just above his own; Iwaizumi could taste his breath, taste the smell of his skin.

"Oikawa--"

 _Tooru_.

A small huff of an exhale trickled out of Oikawa's mouth and over Iwaizumi's lips.

"we--"

_Can't._

"Ca--" The syllable caught in the back of Iwaizumi's throat. He could feel the heat crawling across his flesh, could feel a tremble attempting to take his lip but he couldn't allow that, not when it might glance against Oikawa's mouth and destroy any illusion of self control he was currently attempting to display.

Oikawa's eyes twitched up to meet his own. The gentle touch of his fingers on Iwaizumi's hips began to fall away, the heat leaving burning sensation behind as if Oikawa's fingerprints had been seared beneath his skin.

But it felt wrong, the lack of touch felt wrong and Tooru's hands had felt _right_ so why, _why_ \--

Iwaizumi dropped the arm that Oikawa had used to help heave him from the lake, fingers moving to slide just above the waist of his pants before he tipped his head to the side and caught Tooru's mouth in a kiss.

They both caught their breath, hiccupping gasps rushing in through their noses, but then it felt like a full on collapse, the give of will beneath the hot press of lips. They stumbled together, because even though Iwaizumi thought they couldn't be closer he was _wrong_ , and he was yanking Oikawa's hips toward him without thinking, pressing their chests together, rushing breath into his lungs as he opened his mouth so he could slide his tongue over the soft pout of Oikawa's lower lip.

Oikawa huffed a breath, fingernails digging small crescents into Iwaizumi's hips. He was breathing so hard, chest heaving so heavily that Iwaizumi was convinced his heart was drumming as quickly as his own.

Iwaizumi slid his fingers up Oikawa's back, drinking in the shallow dip of his spine before trailing up his neck. He fit his palm against Oikawa's jaw, held the delicate lines of his face as Oikawa parted his lips to slip his tongue into the confines of Iwaizumi's mouth.

Iwaizumi felt like fire, like he was living and breathing fire, pumping it through his veins and stoking it with every touch against Tooru's skin. Their tongues slid together, bodies pressed against one another with no room in between, and Iwaizumi could feel energy fissuring out from his chest and breaking down his insides into something pure and primal and raw.

They were stumbling, just a staggering step backward, and Iwaizumi couldn't help but think of them in the sand, laid out together, bared under false moonlight. He wanted to wrap himself in Oikawa, be wrapped in Oikawa, just touch and feel _all_ off him. He could feel the Force purring in his veins, and his skin was lit crimson even before Oikawa made a small noise, a noise that sounded like want worn thin.

Iwaizumi understood that feeling.

Iwaizumi's other hand dropped down, threading his fingers through Tooru's, and he heard the soft whisper, " _Hajime_ "; he felt it against his own lips. Iwaizumi was crumbling, legs only holding him up because he knew they had to, but the greed was creeping into his mouth and making him want to _taste_.

Iwaizumi dipped his head to the side and kissed at the long line of Oikawa's neck, gently mouthing at the flesh until he was confident enough to suck it between his teeth. Oikawa groaned.

 _Greed_.

Iwaizumi's eyes fluttered open.

Oikawa's fingers were sliding through his hair, coercing shivers to ripple out across his flesh.

 _Attachment_.

"Oikawa--"

Oikawa huffed, but he was kissing him again, and Oikawa's mouth on his own made heat bloom up from his chest and over his face like he stored the power of a sun in his lips.

Iwaizumi started shaking, his gut dropping. He felt queasy, sick.

" _Oikawa_ ," he whispered, pulling away. He took a staggering step backward, and while Oikawa lurched forward he didn't follow, fingers falling away from Iwaizumi slow and quiet. Iwaizumi looked away from him, chest still rising and falling with exceptional weight.

The energy in the room was tremendous, rolling off them in heavy waves.

"We can't," Iwaizumi said, voice strained.

_Mistake._

Oikawa was staring at the ground, eyes half lidded, mouth parted.

"We both know that."

Oikawa remained quiet, swallowing hard before turning his head. Finally he spoke a single word, "Right."

Iwaizumi was shaking, suddenly very cold from the lack of flesh against his flesh and fire in his veins. "I'm..." Iwaizumi trailed off, considered his words. "I'll be back in the room soon."

He turned, sand grating against the ball of his foot, and  made his way toward the lower levels of the Temple. He could feel Oikawa's presence as he left, emotions lashing out and disrupting the air around him, but Oikawa stayed still. Iwaizumi didn't have to look behind him to know that Oikawa didn't watch him leave.

 

Iwaizumi braced his arms against the sink. Tremors wracked his shoulders, his legs, his lungs.

He squeezed his eyes shut in the dark. When he searched for peace in the Force he couldn't find it.

_Why had it felt right?_

Iwaizumi could still feel ghosts of Oikawa's touch on his skin, echoes of his emotions ringing through his own mind. Iwaizumi huffed a breath and realized he sounded like a wounded animal, caught in a trap. He leaned forward, forehead hitting hard against the mirror, and he bit down on his lip and squeezed his hands against the sink until his bones felt more liable to break than stay firm.

He breathed ragged breaths, over and over, until he could get them steady again.

 

When Iwaizumi returned to the room Oikawa was awake, meditating. The click of the door eased his eyes open. When he looked at Iwaizumi it was unnervingly blank.

Iwaizumi stared at him, and the longer he stared the more he could feel the shift of the Force in the air. Oikawa was dragging his emotions down, hiding them impressively well, but Iwaizumi knew they were roiling just beneath the surface-- anger and resentment and sadness.  

That was fine.

Iwaizumi laid down, slipping under his sheets and staring at the wall. Iwaizumi wouldn't do anything to disrupt Oikawa's calm, but he was thankful for the drowned murmurs of emotion in the air. Oikawa really wasn't Oikawa if he was without feeling.

 

Iwaizumi should have expected the nightmare.

Everything was on fire. Iwaizumi could hear screaming in his ears even though he knew it wasn't real, but the voices were blood curdling anyway, and the red that seared through his vision made his heart beat into a panic.

Iwaizumi was somehow on his feet before he had even managed to open his eyes, stumbling forward in the night and shaking himself of the visions. Before he had blinked away the darkness something was hitting at Iwaizumi's chest, fists smacking against him before curling into the fabric. When the fog cleared Iwaizumi looked down and saw Oikawa, sobbing, eyes blown wide and focused on an invisible point that no one could see.

Iwaizumi grabbed his shoulders, and he was finally awake enough to hear the windows and bed frames rattling.

"Oikawa," he shook him lightly, " _Oikawa_."

Oikawa's legs were buckling, his weight sagging against Iwaizumi even though his fists were still dug into cloth. He gasped, moonlight reflecting the trails of tears over his cheeks.

The waves of emotion rolling off him were borderline pungent; Iwaizumi could feel them in his mouth and his throat and his gut. They raised fear and panic in him like bile, and when Oikawa's legs gave Iwaizumi only had enough strength to stumble backward and sink to the ground.

" _Tooru_ ," he whispered, itching hot emotions squeezing his throat tight. Oikawa was still staring at the ground, his knees having hit the floor without him noticing, and his entire body shook uncontrollably.

"Tooru," Iwaizumi tried again, willing his voice to be stronger. "I'm here. Tooru you're _with me_."

Oikawa turned his gaze to him, and when his eyes connected with Iwaizumi there was a single beat of confusion before his face broke, tears spilling heavy over his face. He crumpled into Iwaizumi's chest, tears falling into the fabric of his shirt and hands shaking where they curled into it.

"It's okay," Iwaizumi said, feeling Oikawa's back bow inward as he slumped against him. When he sobbed Iwaizumi felt like his heart was breaking. Iwaizumi closed his eyes, diving into himself in an attempt to unearth the calm he knew was stored in there somewhere. "We'll be Jedi Knights soon," he explained in a hushed voice. "We'll have time to work on this."

Training was hard on everyone; it wasn't a new concept. Being a Jedi was a constant test of strength and will, but training to become one involved a lot of fortitude, mental and otherwise, and a lot of shedding of human longing.

"One day you won't suffer like this," Iwaizumi said to him, softly. He didn't know if Oikawa could hear him or if he'd listen even if he could. But the words made Iwaizumi feel better, so he said them regardless, "One day your emotions won't hurt you like this."

Iwaizumi sometimes wondered if anyone in the entire Temple, if a single member of the of the High Council, cared or felt as strongly as Oikawa did.

Then he realized he knew the answer.

 

 

"Really, Oikawa?"

Oikawa shot up in his seat, compulsively wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth.

Iwaizumi leaned against the table, arms crossed over his chest, "You realize if anyone found you drooling on an ancient Jedi text you'd be _dead_ , right?"

Oikawa lightly brushed at the page of the tome, pursing his lips together before smiling big and broad up at Iwaizumi. The smile made his ears wiggle a little, "It's a good thing you found me then, right Hajime?"

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, lurching off the table and dropping his arms down by his sides, "Your Master is looking for you."

Oikawa closed the book, then glanced up at Iwaizumi, blank faced. Iwaizumi waited. Oikawa's eyes suddenly flew open in shock and he slapped his hand over his mouth.

"Yes," Iwaizumi said, "you need to leave for your mission."

"My mistake," Oikawa said, abruptly standing and snatching the tome from the table.

"Oh it's no big deal," Iwaizumi said with a shrug, "it's not like you're about to be appointed a Jedi Knight or anything."

Oikawa didn't even bother with nervous laughter. He scurried around his chair, grabbing his cloak from where it laid over the back, and started toward the door. Iwaizumi followed in even paced steps. "This is one of your last missions before you're tested as well, right?" Oikawa threw a glance over his shoulder.

"Yes," Iwaizumi answered, suddenly very aware of the Padawan braid tickling at his neck. "It is."

"Well I'm sure you'll do fine, so don't worry about it."

Iwaizumi glared at the side of his face, "I didn't need reassurance, but thank you." Then he furrowed his brow, "You know they already picked out a Padawan for me?"

Oikawa had the nerve to stifle a chuckle with his hand.

"Why the laughter?" Iwaizumi asked, bumping him hard against the shoulder.

Oikawa's feet careened out of step for half a moment before he was steady again. "I really can't imagine you babysitting, Hajime," he answered, face still drawn up in amusement, eyes still focused forward.

This time Iwaizumi almost snorted, "I babysat you your whole life."

Oikawa didn't have a rebuttal for that, so he moved on quickly, "So? Who is it?"

"Kindaichi," Iwaizumi responded.

" _Oh_ , Yuutarou," Oikawa cooed. "I've always liked him. He's a good kid." Oikawa frowned, "Although I think he's always been afraid of me."

Iwaizumi shrugged, "Most people are."

"You're a bit abrasive today aren't you?" Oikawa asked rhetorically as they rounded a corner, Temple entrance now in sight.

Iwaizumi gave him a flat look, "You say that every day we actually see each other."

"Hey, about Yuutarou," Oikawa said, tipping his head to the side and ignoring Iwaizumi's last comment entirely, "Isn't he a bit old to be taking on a new master?"

Iwaizumi let go of a small sigh, "Apparently his old master was no longer fit to lead a Padawan."

"Hmm," Oikawa hummed. The lilt of Oikawa's voice was odd, but when Iwaizumi looked at him his expression hadn't changed much; he just appeared thoughtful. "Well," Oikawa said, turning his full attention on Iwaizumi's face, "Be careful out there."

"Of course," Iwaizumi felt his mouth curve into the slightest of smiles. "You too."

 

 

 "There hasn't been any contact for days now."

"There were no survivors at the scene."

"We can't risk falling into Sith territory here--"

"But isn't there _something_ \--"

"There's nothing more to be discussed; we've come to a concen--"

"What's going on here?" Iwaizumi asked, and he knew his eyes were alarmingly open. Kindaichi fell in line behind him, hands clasped behind his back.

"Hajime," Takeda said, rising from his seat as the other Masters remained stationary around the table. "We were just discussing--"

"Leave it, Ittetsu," was a murmur from across the table.

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes on Irihata, "Where's Oikawa?"

The room became stiflingly silent, words and mumbles settling down into nothing and layering over them like dust.

Irihata shifted in his seat, "He's missing." Iwaizumi felt his face unfurling into shock even as Irihata continued speaking, "He went missing in action on his last mission in the outer rim. We've been unable to locate any survivors." Irihata watched Iwaizumi's face without so much as a twitch in his expression, "He's presumed dead."

Iwaizumi shook his head, "No."

"Hajime," Takeda started gently, "we looked for him for a time, but it's becoming far too dangerous--"

"He's not dead," Iwaizumi repeated, still staring at Irihata. "There's no wa--"

"There's nothing more we can do," Irihata said. "Looking for him has given us nothing but these conclusions."

Iwaizumi slammed his hand on the table, eyes scratchy and big in his sockets, "Your conclusions are _wrong!_ "

While the other Masters flinched at his outburst, Irihata seemed entirely unfazed. Takeda bit his lip in worry, hands jumping up toward his chest.

"Iwaizumi," Irihata began, his gaze hard and chilling like ice laden steel. "Oikawa's Master can no longer sense his presence." His eyes narrowed, "You need to accept the truth."

"I don't care what his Master senses!" Iwaizumi shouted. Kindaichi was nervously twittering beside him, a ball of fluttering anxiety. Iwaizumi smacked his palm against his own chest, " _I_ would have felt it if he died!"

"You?" a Twi'lek Master questioned from the other side of the table. He readjusted his Lekku over his shoulder, "Do you actually think your bond is stronger than that between a Padawan and their Master?"

Iwaizumi turned his head toward him, eyebrows drawn in and eyes wild. He looked at the Master with disgust on his face, " _Who are you?_ "

The Master's eyes grew wide and Takeda moved to stand again, taking a step toward Iwaizumi, "Hajime, I think you need to calm down."

Iwaizumi turned his gaze back to Irihata, "We need to look for Oikawa."

Irihata shook his head, "The chances of Oikawa being alive are--"

"He's not dead!" Iwaizumi interrupted.

"Hajime, please--"

He slammed his fist on the table, "You're abandoning your family!"

Irihata was beginning to glare, "We didn't abandon anyone; Oikawa isn't _alive_."

Iwaizumi felt hands grasp at his chest and arms as he lurched forward, "YOU'RE WRONG."

"Hajime--"

"YOU'RE WRONG," he tried again, heat scratching behind his eyes and in his throat, "HE'S NOT DEAD, HE'S NOT DEAD, HE'S NOT--"

 

 

Iwaizumi's eyes were closed.

The sound of the city below him was white noise, drowning out the jagged spike of emotions and thoughts that coursed through his mind. He balanced on the railing of the balcony on the balls of his feet, sitting on his heels and ankles. He felt almost suspended this way, arms draped over his knees, empty space above and below him.

He inhaled smoke into his mouth, rolling it around his tongue before spraying it out his nose.

He listened to the speeders pass below him, incoming buzzes going sharp before dying off and fading into the distance. He counted them.

One, two, three.

He felt an emptiness in his left hand, like the space had recently been occupied.

Four, five, six.

It was warm around his fingers, but it ached.

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes together harder, as if that would somehow deepen the blackness.

Seven. Eight.

Iwaizumi reached up to his mouth and steadied the cigarra with his fingertips, inhaling deeply. He felt the herb rush warm and slow down his throat and into his lungs.

Nine, ten, eleven.

The numbers started coming easy, and Iwaizumi felt his shoulders loosen. When his eyes finally slid open he was staring into the darkness of his apartment. The deep colors of the night drenched his back and his balcony, but they couldn't crawl into that space. Inside it was all clean edges and corners, shadows on top of shadows, mostly empty.

He glanced down from his perch. The city moved too fast below him, gold streaks of light rushing through deep purples and abyssal blues and black. It made the nighttime more shining than the morning, life cutting through the night with technology and willpower. He watched the gold streaks shoot past him, and he thought about Coruscant's two skies.

He could still feel Oikawa. There was not a single doubt in his mind that he was alive, somewhere, his emotions still aching through the galaxy and tugging at Iwaizumi's consciousness over their bond.

Iwaizumi looked up into the sky as he took another deep inhale of his cigarra. Oikawa would kill him if he knew he was smoking. "Such a nasty habit, isn't it Hajime?"

Iwaizumi exhaled the smoke through his nose. It was hard to relax now. Now Iwaizumi was the one struggling with dreams.

"I would never let you do such a thing around me."

Iwaizumi stared at the concrete of his balcony, muttering to himself as the speeders continued to race by, "If you were here I wouldn't need to."

 

 

 

"Keep your senses open," Iwaizumi directed his Padawan as they marched forward.

"Yes Master."

Iwaizumi blinked around the battleground. Bodies and droids were littered through the dirt, trees and soil blown apart and burnt on the edges of the path. The air was dry, and that worried Iwaizumi. Despite the greenery of the forest appearing healthy, he feared for fire.

There was the sound of blaster shots and shouting in the distance, and Iwaizumi gripped his saber more tightly in his palm.

"Why here..." Kindaichi was whispering, looking around at the fallen Republic Troops.

"They're too good," Iwaizumi answered honestly. "The Empire always has an upper hand with information trade."

Kindaichi's mouth was twisting around, his thumb restlessly moving over the hilt of his saber. "Is it for lack of troops?" he asked.

"No," Iwaizumi responded without pause. "It's because the Empire will do anything, and we will not."

_That's how you lose wars._

There was a wounded shout, loud and desperate, and then utter silence as his voice and rifle blasts ceased. Iwaizumi paused in his steps, holding out his arm to signal Kindaichi's stillness as well.

Kindaichi halted, swallowing and shrinking back as they listened.

Iwaizumi could barely make out the shiver of trees and a few far-off chirps of birds. The rest was oddly quiet, and Iwaizumi felt discontent rising in his gut.

Iwaizumi's eyes slid over to Kindaichi, and he was careful to keep his voice a whisper, "There's a Sith Lord here."

Kindaichi's body stiffened, his face turning to shock induced stone, "H-How--"

Iwaizumi shook his head, "Someone's hiding their presence. Well."

Kindaichi almost staggered backward, hands shaking, "I'm sorry--"

Iwaizumi cut off his apology before he could get any further, "Don't worry about it." Iwaizumi tilted his head to try and peer through the trees, "They would probably sense me the same way I'm sensing them."

Kindaichi was not great at veiling his presence or his ability with the Force, and most of the time it didn't prove troublesome. Iwaizumi imagined now he was lighting up their enemy's senses like a beacon.

Iwaizumi started moving forward once more, each step taken with careful consideration. There was something odd about the air. It wasn't humid, and yet Iwaizumi felt like he was breathing steam, like his lungs were clouded with something thick and hot. Sparks started moving across his skin.

Iwaizumi heard a far off noise like a heartbeat.

It rumbled in his ears the way a distant explosion would, shaking his eardrums and rattling his core. But this was timed, steady, in step like a march. Or a pulse.

Iwaizumi tilted his head, eyes breaking past a line of trees.

It was _his_ pulse. Or...

Iwaizumi felt the breath leave his lungs. His feet stopped in the dirt, and his hand loosened around his saber. All he heard was the steady beat of his heart, and the distant ring in his ears. He stared.

Oikawa raised his gaze to stare back.

Iwaizumi's vision was blurring. Everything was fog, but--

Iwaizumi's eyes dropped downward, and he felt his insides twist into knots.

\-- but Oikawa was wrapped, head to toe, in black robes.

He smiled.

"Oikawa," he whispered, detached.

Kindaichi went rigid beside Iwaizumi as Oikawa tilted his head. His eyes were big and open, like he was some strange level of thrilled, and they were _gold_.

"Hajime," he said, taking a few steps forward. "It's been a while."

Iwaizumi didn't have any words. He wasn't sure if he could move even if he was being attacked. His body was so wracked with shock that his limbs felt like stone. His eyes hovered around the belt cinching Oikawa's robes at his waist. Two sabers were hooked there, one of the hilts curved like Oikawa's saber never had been. Iwaizumi's eyes shot back up to him, "You're alive."

Oikawa paused in front of them, crossing his arms over his chest, "You knew that though, didn't you?"

Kindaichi's eyes slid over to Iwaizumi, but Iwaizumi didn't speak. He felt sick.

"Anything to say?" Oikawa asked, eyebrow hitching up at Iwaizumi's silence.

Iwaizumi's face was frozen open, eyes too wide and mouth parted but still not taking air. Kindaichi's hand was shaking around his saber. Oikawa smirked at Kindaichi's display like it was cute.

"Come home." Oikawa and Kindaichi both turned their gaze toward Iwaizumi, and he repeated the words, voice strained and empty sounding, "Just come home."

Oikawa was hiding his reaction like he used to when they were young. Then his face relaxed, features moving with his sigh. He responded simply, "No."

Iwaizumi shook his head, "You don't know what you're doing."

Oikawa's eyes darkened, and for some reason the gold of his irises suddenly seemed like fact, like they had always been that way. His voice was low, "I've always known what I was doing."

Iwaizumi shook his head, the response a borderline twitch, "No, Oikawa. You're a good man. This is wrong. This isn't what you want."

Oikawa's eyes grew wide at those words, the gold flaring bright and catching the sun, turning his gaze into sparks. His lip hooked into a sneer as he took a step forward, voice hissing past his teeth as he pointed at his chest, "I've _always_ known what I wanted."

Iwaizumi felt his chest growing tight as Oikawa stared him down. Oikawa reached down to his belt, snatching his saber from his waist without glancing down at it. He extended it, red blade purring from the hilt.

"Alright then Hajime," Oikawa said, palm fitting against the curve of the blade like it had become a part of him in these past months. "Fight me. "

Iwaizumi grit his teeth, " _No_."

Oikawa twirled his saber in his fingers, and his face was twisted in anger. "You said it's wrong, remember?" Oikawa asked. "So come on. Jedi have no issues killing Imperial soldiers-- or any enemies for that matter-- so it's fine right?" He motioned toward him with his hand, "It fits your code so it's fine."

Iwaizumi's hands clenched into fists at his sides, "Stop this Oikawa."

"They train you not to get attached," Oikawa said. He peered into Iwaizumi's face, mania starting to crawl across his features, "You know what that makes it easy to do?"

"Oikawa--" Iwaizumi's voice was a growl.

"Kill people!" Oikawa answered, leaning forward. "You're not supposed to get attached to anyone, anything. You don't mourn or allow emotion to overcome you when one of your comrades die."

Iwaizumi felt his arms shaking, "Oika--"

"And if you don't feel emotion when those who are supposed to be your family are killed, well," he spun his saber once more before snapping it out at his side in a battle ready position. "If that's the case, then why would you feel remorse over killing strangers you never knew?"

" _You're out of control!"_ Iwaizumi shouted. "You're just spouting nonsense!"

"I AM IN CONTROL!" Oikawa screamed back at him. "I am just not in _their_ control!"

"We are taught compassion," Iwaizumi barked. "Stop throwing all our principles out the window!"  

"Compassion when it suits the Order!" Oikawa bit back. "Never when it suits the individual. We are _machines_."

"Oikawa stop," Iwaizumi said. "I realize you're upset--"

"Upset?" Oikawa repeated, eyes wide. Then he straightened, running his hand through his hair before tipping his head back in a laugh. His skin was bright, warm, more alive than Iwaizumi had ever seen a person be. "I've been beyond upset for almost a decade," Oikawa said, charming smile sliding across his face as he leveled his gaze with Iwaizumi once more. His eyes narrowed, "Now I'm enraged."

 _Why is this happening_.

"Fight me, Hajime," Oikawa was saying again, sinking back into a battle stance. "I'm a Sith now; fight me for your Order."

Iwaizumi shook his head, "No."

Oikawa rolled his eyes and straightened, and the arm absent a saber snapped outward toward Kindaichi.

Kindaichi's eyes immediately blinked wide and watery, his legs moving in a staggering step backward before his lightsaber shook free of his hand and his palms grasped weakly around his throat.

Oikawa's arm lifted. Kindaichi's feet left the ground.

Iwaizumi felt rage boil up in his chest, "Oikawa, STOP!" He flung his arms forward, Force lashing out from his palms, and Oikawa recoiled, arms dropping, and Kindaichi hit the ground. He coughed in the dirt.  

"I figured as much," Oikawa said, gripping at his chest as he slowly straightened his back. Why was he smiling?

Iwaizumi was pleading, and he knew his voice sounded desperate but he didn't _care_ , "Oikawa, please. Come home. Just come home."

Oikawa shook his head like Iwaizumi was the helpless one, "It's not my home anymore, Hajime." He glanced down at Kindaichi, voice going more chipper, "Sorry Yuutarou; I've always liked you, but this seems to be the only thing that works." Then he reached forward and squeezed his fingers together, and Kindaichi's coughs became strangled gasps for breath.

Iwaizumi grit his teeth together, anger seizing his limbs, and he rushed forward, Force propelling his feet over the dirt.

Oikawa's eyes flashed gold with delight as he dropped his arm, and when Iwaizumi's saber came crashing down on his he was _smiling_. But Iwaizumi wasn't interested in the sabers, and he drew back, smacking Oikawa's red blade to the side before kicking him in the chest and forcing him to stagger backwards.

Oikawa lost his footing, and while he worked to regain it Iwaizumi batted at his saber again, loosing it from his grip and sending it flying from Oikawa's hand. Iwaizumi threw his own saber off to the side, flinging it toward the jungle, and charged Oikawa, shouldering him hard against the chest and bringing him to the ground.

Oikawa's eyes were wide in shock before Iwaizumi drew back his fist and punched him, cracking him hard in the face. Iwaizumi grabbed a fist of black cloth in his left hand as he yanked Oikawa's shoulders off the ground, hitting him again.

Oikawa's lip split, smearing Iwaizumi's knuckles with blood. "You're being an idiot!" Iwaizumi screamed at him, shaking him by the cloth of his robes.

Oikawa's feet kicked below them, and Iwaizumi punched him again, hitting him hard enough to lose his grip on the black cloth. Oikawa's upper half reconnected hard with the dirt, and Iwaizumi heard him gasp for breath.

Iwaizumi grabbed at the fabric with both his hands now, staring into Oikawa's face as he forced him into a sitting position. "Come to your senses," he implored with wide, terrified eyes. "Stop whatever it is you think you're doing."

Oikawa's hand reached out, fingers grasping for his saber. It flew toward him and Iwaizumi smacked it away, sending it flying in the other direction. Oikawa shot him a poisonous glance before cranking his hand back and punching Iwaizumi in the cheek.

Iwaizumi grunted, lurched onto the weight of one hand to keep himself from toppling over in the dirt. Oikawa drew back again and Iwaizumi countered it, stopping the strike with his forearm. He lurched forward, headbutting Oikawa in the nose.

Oikawa's head hit the ground again, and Iwaizumi punched him. Over, and over, and over. "Come," he wheezed, fist smacking against bone. "To," he felt the skin on his knuckles split. "Your," he eyes were blurry and hot, itching. "Senses," his voice broke, and Oikawa's face hit the dirt. He wasn't fighting back. Why wasn't he fighting back?

Iwaizumi felt tears fall hot over his cheeks. "Oikawa," he wheezed.

Oikawa watched him, eyes swollen and face bruised, but he didn't seem angry. He just stared at Hajime, and he didn't look like the one with dirt and blood all over his face.

Iwaizumi's tears fell into the cloth of the black robes, disappearing.

His body sagged where he sat atop Oikawa, knees in soil and hands in cloth. "Please don't do this," he said, his voice gasping and broken.

Oikawa blinked at him, "I have to."

" _Why?_ " Iwaizumi asked, voice weak and trembling, palms pressing into Oikawa's chest.

Oikawa's face didn't change. He answered without heat in his words, "You know why."

Iwaizumi screamed, no words, no meaning, just loud and guttural screaming that shook the trees and made tears slide down his jaw. He shuddered.

Oikawa was still watching him with a calm face, "That's a lot of emotion you have there."

Iwaizumi's head bobbed forward to gaze down at him miserably. He weakly sent his fist in for another punch.

Oikawa caught it in his palm, and his fingers squeezed over Iwaizumi's. "Try and punch me again," Oikawa said, voice silky even though his mouth was bloody, "and I'll break your fingers."

Iwaizumi raised his left fist. Oikawa sneered at him, catching that one too, and then Force pushed Iwaizumi back through the air.

Iwaizumi careened through the air and he hit the ground clumsily, limbs working like they didn't understand what the others were doing.

Oikawa was standing, and after dusting off his robes he reached his hand out for his saber. It flew into his grasp easily, and it still sat like it belonged.

Iwaizumi took a step forward. Oikawa held up his hand.

There was a whirring in the distance, and Iwaizumi realized it was a ship. It wasn't there for him.

"Those are my comrades," Oikawa explained lazily, purple and black already blooming beneath the flesh of his left cheek. "And if they see you, they'll mow you over." His eyes were steady on Iwaizumi, "Stay here."

Oikawa moved to turn around, and when Iwaizumi took a step forward he was met with a glowing blue saber at his throat. He froze.

Oikawa glanced behind him, then tipped his head in a thankful gesture toward Kindaichi. He turned and left, black cloak dragging over the ground.

Kindaichi's hold on Iwaizumi's arm and the threat of the saber at his throat stayed steady until Oikawa was out of sight. When the blue blade disappeared into the hilt Iwaizumi fell to his knees. He watched the ship depart, and the ringing in his ears grew louder.

 

His Padawan watched him the entire ride back to the Temple. Iwaizumi didn't make eye contact. He didn't look out at the stars either. He tried to distance himself from the reason it ached whenever he blinked, and stung whenever he thought.

 

 

 

 

"I'd like to go on my own personal missions for a time."

"That's fine; you've earned your place here. Find yourself a ship and keep in contact."

Oikawa stared at him, eyes and lips flat, "Of course."

 

 

 

"I think it's best if I kept myself from off-world missions for the time being," Iwaizumi explained, eyes sweeping over the faces of his Masters. "I would like to take the time to train my Padawan here, in the ways of lightsaber combat and Force control, and then resume as normal once I've found some peace in mediation."

"Of course," Master Takeda answered, smile properly guarded, "Whatever you need, Hajime."

 

 

 

The smoke parted around Oikawa in lazy curls. He could tell who was Force sensitive in the bar just based on who turned at his entrance. Even the most inept in Force sensitivity could feel him.

He took a few long strides, eyes crawling over patrons and faces. He ignored the frightened and intrigued stares, running his fingers over the polished edges of tables. His eyes landed on a man swirling amber liquid around a glass in a booth by himself, black hair a mess atop his head. Not only did he not turn when Oikawa walked in; he didn't even tip his gaze up when Oikawa stopped by his table.

"You."

The man finally tilted his chin toward Oikawa, eyebrow twitching upward. There was a blaster pistol on his table as well as his hip. "Me," he responded, gold eyes catching the light and striking it into fire like flint.

"I heard you have a ship," Oikawa said.

His smirk sloshed uneven across his face, "If you have money, I have a ship."

Oikawa grinned.

 

 

 

Smoke poured out of Iwaizumi's nostrils as he looked down at the city. He wasn't counting speeders this time. He counted speeders and closed his eyes when he wanted to calm down, or go to sleep. When he wanted to feel awake, alive, that's when he watched gold chase gold, the ever evolving second sky of Coruscant. As for the stars, well. He had stopped looking at the stars a long time ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> *[SCREAMS AND SOBS INCOHERENTLY ABOUT ART FOR THE FIC](http://suggestivescribe.tumblr.com/tagged/shadow%20of%20greed%20art)* 
> 
>  
> 
> <http://suggestivescribe.tumblr.com/>


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